Grandma's Fried Perilla Leaf by Gwanghwamun Mijin

I really enjoyed the Cold Soba with Shiso (Perilla Leaf) Dipping Sauce by Lilyan Singapore, from Tokyo, so I wanted to try what seemed like a Korean version, by Gwanghwamun Mijin, likewise a Korean specialist in buckwheat soba noodles (Memil Guksu 메밀국수 in Korean). Gwanghwamun Mijin was founded in 1954 and has apparently consistently been awarded the Michelin Bib Gourmand since 2018. I visited their first Singapore store. 

In the process, I stumbled upon this other intriguing item on their menu that is seldom advertised - Grandma's Fried Perilla Leaf. The description says it is "stuffed with tofu, egg, carrot, green onion, garlic and glass noodles" (screenshot further below). (But seriously, they should have flipped the order of the ingredients! As you will see in the photos.)

I love eating raw and tempura shiso leaves in Japanese cuisine, so I was hyped up for this because the deep fried leaves looked very much like shiso tempura. But I was in for a huge disappointment.

Grandma's Fried Perilla Leaf by Gwanghwamun Mijin

Firstly, the batter was terrible. It was hard and clunky, too crunchy to the point of being difficult to chew, and also unevenly spread, as you can see from the photo, where some parts are wrinkly while other parts are flat, and also some parts are clearly green indicating a thin layer, while some parts are pale yellow indicating underfried, and other parts are very dark orange to the point of being almost red or brown. The batter also didn't have any particularly nice taste, unlike say some beer batters, so I didn't understand the concept behind it.

Next, and this was the point I found most interesting, the perilla leaf tasted nothing like the Japanese version. It had no herby citrusy or minty notes at all. Instead, it tasted similar to some Chinese fried vegetable, like a fried mustard leaf that was somewhat bitter with a hint of bamboo leaf taste, and maybe a smaller hint of green leaf taste. But overall, it was quite bland. So I don't really see the point of using such a bland leaf in a crude batter that was a terror to chew, and certainly not paired with an acrid vinegary sauce (in the metal saucer) - any nuances from the perilla flavour would have been completely lost under all those overpowering flavours and textures.

And finally, this was the final disappointment - it was mostly glass noodles in the stuffing, and these weren't even seasoned well, so it made everything very bland. Normally, such stuffed dishes are delicious for a well-seasoned filling - think of xiao long bao with soy sauce-seasoned fillings or yong tau fu with fish sauce-seasoned fillings. Or else, they really should have used more spring onions and garlic as they listed. But as it is, you hardly see any green apart from the perilla leaf itself, much less any orange from carrots. Any tofu, garlic or egg (white?) seems to be at best represented by a few white specks here and there. See the screenshot below of their menu description (click to enlarge). (But all of this would have been forgivable if only they had a strong perilla flavour to begin with.)

Grandma's Fried Perilla Leaf by Gwanghwamun Mijin - mostly transparent glass noodle filling with few white spots
Grandma's Fried Perilla Leaf by Gwanghwamun Mijin - close up of perilla leaf
Grandma's Fried Perilla Leaf by Gwanghwamun Mijin - screenshot of official menu description of filling

Perilla Oil Buckwheat Noodles

On a side note, I did also try their Perilla Oil Buckwheat Noodles - I even made it a set with their chicken cutlet (see the photo below). But given the poor experience with the lack of distinct perilla flavour, it was no surprise that I struggled to discern any perilla notes in the dish. 

Not only was the presentation quite messy and ghastly (compare it to the Lilyan version), it just tasted like glass noodles or pho with a tonne of seaweed furikake (with crunchy rice pops) dumped on it. There was no herby or citrusy flavour. I couldn't even discern any bamboo flavour under all the seaweed.

Perilla Oil Buckwheat Noodle with Chicken Cutlet Set by Gwanghwamun Mijin

The only redeeming factor was that the Korean version of soba noodles (memil guksu) has more starch added and less buckwheat is used, so it is smoother and chewier, and is really like a coloured, slightly firmer version of pho or glass noodles. That did pair well with the commercial tasting seaweed furikake seasoning in an unintuitive way, because it turned out to be like Indomie instant noodle comfort food. It is probably also less healthy than the Japanese version because the starch probably has higher glycemic index and less fibre. [Just a note that Korean cuisine does have a coarser version of buckwheat noodles called Mak Guksu (막국수) where they add more buckwheat. Presumably this would be closer to the Japanese version, although I don't recall having tried it.]

The chicken cutlet was also at best school canteen standard. The sauce seriously reminded me of school canteen style spaghetti or Hainanese pork chop sauce, except that it leaned more towards a mixed vegetable stew taste rather than tomato-based.

I've been to many Michilin star restaurants, and I must say that this was my worst experience. It really reminded me of a school tuckshop. Even the common Din Tai Fung would be better than this. I wonder if the star was only awarded for their signature plain buckwheat noodle dish, which I didn't try.

That said, if you're curious what the Korean version of perilla tastes like, it is educational to try their Fried Perilla Leaf. (Not their buckwheat noodles.)

Discover other unusual hearty flavours and noodles

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